She awoke again in a sudden, maddening explosion of pain and fear that poured through the body she inhabited. It was a constant, maddening rush. Like she was trapped in a current, tugged and thrown about without care of concern. Surfacing just long enough for a single, gasping breath before being drawn back down, keeping her continually caught in the primal struggle for survival. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t act, all she could do was flail helplessly in that torrent of sensation.
Vaguely she was given a glimpse of what it was, the feeling of claws, digging into flesh, tearing into it, ripping at it. It was a sensation so sweetly familiar to her, yet at the same time, completely alien. These weren’t her claws, digging, tearing, ripping; this was her flesh, or at least the sensation of her flesh, falling at its mercy.
Tight thick strings dug into limbs, against wrists, wet with blood and scraps of flesh. The scents that assailed against her, through her, mixed between the hot, familiar, iron tinged scent of bloody and carnage, the fetid, wet smell of felines soaked in their own excrement, and the thick smell of fish sausage clinging to the flesh. Screams ripped out, resounding in an alien tremble against the steep walls of the pit, trapped with her in the darkness as she could feel the raw burning pain of that screaming throat made raw.
She wasn’t sure how long it lasted, her body squirming, writhing as best it could. Never once did she remember that the movements weren’t her own, that the body wasn’t her own. All she knew, was that the sensations of those cats, destroying her, those claws, those teeth, everything ripping into her.
Pain and fear ruled her, even as she could feel a rope being pulled tight, lifting her up from the dark pit of pain and fear. A light could be seen, just slightly, a moon overhead perhaps? When the first taste of that cool, clean night air hit her senses, she could help but feel a wave of thankful relief washing over her.
She was safe again, no more of those horrid little creatures, no more of that pain.
Hot tears fell down the curve of the cheek. Soft, wretched sobs send quaking shudders through the body. The dull ache of pain and punishment seemed to tear at every single bit of flesh and tissue.
“Please…” the words broke through the sobs, hoarse and thick with need as they left Ranma’s lips, “Please pops… no more.”
For a moment, there was silence, a sweet, dreaded thing thick in the air around him. Then, the words that responded sank like envenomed daggers down into his soul as that shock of betrayal poured into both souls occupying that body, “Stop being so foolish boy! You will learn this technique!”
“It hurts! They want to hurt me, tear me, eat me!” the whimpering moans grew as he forced the words past the worn raw flesh of his throat, “I don’t wanna go back into the dark, into pain! Please don’t make me pops!”
“Feh, I won’t have a son of mine growing up to be such a coward!” there was an anger, glinting lightly behind the man’s glasses as he would glare down at his son. He might’ve evaded the demon, but he wasn’t about to go easy on the boy, no son of his was going to be weak; “You WILL learn this technique! No matter how many different times, no matter how many different ways we have to try this!”
And with that, Ranma and Lilith both felt the foot, pushing against their ribs, and suddenly they were falling, back into the darkness, back into the pit, back into those pungent hated scents, back into the sounds of his own screams and the cries of the cats around him. Back, once more thrown into that pain.
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(Posted Mon, 06 Oct 2008 19:32)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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